New Jackalypse Now
by Sonic Jackson
Summary: R&B and Hip-Hop don't mesh together. At least that's what Swing thought when two ponies asked him to compose music for them. He never thought a small collaboration could turn into something bigger than he could've imagined... An in-progress OC collaboration from FIMFiction, and is loosely based around the Golden Age of Hip-Hop and the New Jack Swing era (1987-1995).


"Yo, what the competition look like, homie?"

"Hang on, I'm about to see now."

A light-brown stallion with zebra stripes poked his head outside of the curtain, making sure he wasn't spotted by the judges. He looked at the performers that was on the stage - "Deja," they called themselves. Two earth stallions and a unicorn mare - none of them he recognized - were setting up their microphones on the stage.

_More singers, huh?_ Swing thought as he pulled his head back. _This should be an easy win after all._ He trotted back to his partner, who was waiting anxiously. Swing smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"We just might have this one in the bag, Redhead," he said. "We got some more popcorn singers up on the stage."

"_Again,_ Swing? I swear to Celestia if I hear another rendition of 'Filly,' I'm gonna wind up strangling somepony!"

Swing couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's reaction. The grand prize for the talent show winners was ten thousand bits and a recording contract, so it came as no surprise that many wannabe pop singers came to Marehattan's Applello Theater and tried out for the contest. Redhead and Swing were one of the only three hip-hop acts in the show, and the only ones to make it to the last round. The normally calm Redhead was slowly going insane from the seemingly endless covers of Griffon Feeble, Lady WahWah, Queasy, and, worst of all, Kanye Quest. Swing had loaned him his MP3 player to help block out the sounds, but it didn't do much.

"Well, it can't be as bad as that 'Marei Vanilli' group that got kicked out during the semi-finals," Swing pointed out.

"They don't count," the carrot-topped pegasi responded. "It's one thing to suck at singing. It's a whole 'nother low to try and deceive everyone by lip-syncing to a song."

Which was crowd pelted Marei Vanilli with garbage when the judges found out they were lip-synching their performances. Swing couldn't help but feel bad for them, but he had to admit, they got off easier than most people who tried doing that.

Swing merely shrugged. "Well, at least they didn't get shot doing it. Marehattan crowds are notorious for doing that to crappy acts."

As they were talking, Deja's song started playing through the speakers. The two stallions headed over to the right entrance to the stage to get a look at the group.

"So that's 'Deja,' huh?" Redhead said. "Well, at least their style is different."

As the song's intro continued, one of the earth ponies stepped up to the front of the stage. His body was a dark blue, and his mane a goldish-brown. As the song began transitioning into the verse, he started to sing:

_I remember the very first time_

_You the picture of love in my heart_

_You and me, mare, holding hands_

_Please be my filly, won't you understand?_

_(I need a marefriend) I need a marefriend_

_And I need her right now_

_Loving, kissing, holding you tight_

_Never letting go_

_(I need a marefriend) I need a marefriend_

_And I need her right now_

_Can I call you, would that be all right_

_Maybe Friday or Saturday night_

_Mare, I think of you all the time_

_'Cause it's you that I need, mare, and you're always on my mind_

_(I need a marefriend)_

_And I need you right now_

_Loving, kissing. holding you tight_

_Never letting go_

_(I need a marefriend) I need a marefriend_

_And I need you right now_

_Loving, kissing, holding you tight_

_And keeping you warm, oh, yeah..._

As the song continued, the two stallions backstage couldn't help but sway their heads to the song.

"I'd be lying if I said this song wasn't corny," Redhead said during the bridge. "But they can sing _real_ damn good!"

"And you ain't lying there, brother. They're _waaayyyyy_ than those Griffon Feeble wannabes that were on earlier." Swing scratched his chin. "Hell, I think we might actually have some stiff competition for the first time tonight."

Redhead shot him a look. "Don't say that, Swing. Every time somepony says that they have 'stiff competition', they always loose."

"Awww, that's just an ol' mare's tale! When have you actually heard of anyone loosing because of them saying that?"

"Well... to be honest, never, but-"

"There ya go, then!" Swing wrapped his foreleg around Redhead's shoulder. "Ain't nothing gonna happen unless we let it happen. And while these ponies are definitely good, there's no way we're gonna let them win."

Redhead looked Swing in the eye. He knew that Swing could be somewhat foolhardy at times, but the determination he had in his eyes showed that he was in it for all or nothing.

He looked back at the group, who were still singing. They seemed to have everything most of the others didn't. Poise, professionalism, proper stage presence, and most importantly, talent. It was somewhat intimidating to him, having faced mostly mediocre competitors. But he knew Swing was right. Nothing was gonna happen unless they let it happen.

"You're right, Swing," Redhead finally said, a smile forming on his lips. "We're gonna be takin' those bits home with us."

"And a recording contract under our belts too," Swing added.

Deja's song came to an end, followed by a healthy round of applause. The stallions moved away from the stage entrance to let the group through.

"You ponies were dope out there!" Swing said as they passed by.

You think so?" the dark-blue stallion said, surprised. "I really didn't think I was at my best out there."

"Are you crazy? You were awesome out there!"

"I'm glad you think so, mate," The male backup singer said. "I was scared we were gonna get pelted with trash like that other group that was on earlier."

Redhead stifled a laugh. "I don't see why'd they mess with you. You're probably as tall as they come."

The backup singer laughed nervously."Well, to be fair, this _is_ the Applello. Size doesn't mean anything if they can shoot you down."

Swing looked at him. He looked about six feet tall, and was almost completely black, save for his short mane, which had gold highlights, and he had red eyes to boot. Swing couldn't imagine anyone even thinking about trying to pull anything on him, even with a gun.

at that point, the mare of the group, who had been busy gulping down cups of fruit punch form the refreshment table, came over.

"Hey there, my little ponies!" she said with a laugh. "Are any of you interested in some punch?" At this, her partners groaned.

"C'mon, Janet! I thought we told you to stop saying that!" the black stallion whined.

Janet let out another playful laugh. "Well, it's true. Compared to me, you two are little ponies."

"By what, two years?" the blue stallion responded. "Just because you're able to drink liquor, doesn't make you any more mature."

"I disagree. I don't drink liquor constantly. And, unlike some ponies I know, I can hold mine in."

At that statement, it was hard not to laugh at the blue stallion: His face had turned purple from the blood rushing to his face, and he had a strange look of embarrassment on his face.

Redhead and Swing stood there struggling to keep their composure, while the black stallion simply broke out laughing at his friend's unfortunate roasting.

Just then, a stage attendant trotted up to them with a clipboard. "Which one of you are 'Colt 'N Play?'" the attendant asked.

"That's us," Swing said, gesturing to himself and Redhead.

"Well, you two are up next after the emcee is done. Is your backing track ready?"

"Yeah, we already gave it to the DJ."

"Alright then, get ready." the attendant walked away. Swing looked at Redhead.

"You ready?" he asked.

"I was born ready," he replied.

Swing smirked. "Well then, let's go!" he turned his head to the singing group. "See you ponies in the winner's circle."

"Likewise," the dark-blue stallion replied as the duo trotted towards the stage.

* * *

"Is everyone ready for our final act of the night?!" The emcee, a tall, black colored pegasi, bellowed into the microphone.

The crowed roared their approval.

"All right then!" he shouted enthusiastically. "And we've saved the best for last! Locally grown in the Brox neighborhood of Marehattan, New Yoke, please give it up for the dynamic duo of Colt 'N Play!"

The crowd cheered wildly as the stallions ran onstage.

"Are y'all ready to tear the roof off this place?!" Redhead shouted through his microphone.

The crowd gave a resounding _"Hay yeah!"_

"I can't hear you! I said are you ready to tear the roof offa this sucker?!"

_"HAY YEAH!"_

"Now that's what I wanna hear!" he said enthusiastically. "Yo, Colt, you ready brother?"

"You know it, Play!" Swing responded. "Yo DJ! Kick it!"

Almost as soon as the song started playing through the speakers, the crowd erupted in cheers.

"Yo, Colt!" Redhead shouted. "You wanna start this one off?"

"Don't mind if I do, homie!" Swing shouted back. "Here we go..."

_(Colt)_

_The time has come to enjoy myself,_

_I've left my problems up on the shelf._

_The work days over and I've got it made,_

_Like Johnny Hemp said I just got paid;_

_And I'm ready to mingle, young stallion single and free._

_Ready to get busy, down to party hardy and have a good time,_

_All I need is a partner in crime._

_Call up the homies and hope they might,_

_Say they down to paint town red tonight._

_Look in the closet and pull out the hype gear._

_Twist up the dreadlock fade and I'm outta here._

_Go to a disco or a party of some kind,_

_Hope that I would find myself a good time._

_Before I'm through and the night is done_

_Yo, I'm gonna have fun._

_(Chorus)_

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, we just dancin' ya'll._

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, out there on the floor._

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, we just dancin' ain't we?_

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, gonna give you more_

_Oooh yeah, yeah._

_(Play)_

_If you lookin' for more, step on the dance floor,_

_Check your coat and troubles at the door._

_Cause we sure you gonna see us smile today._

_The problems of the world seem miles away._

_The only thing that matters is a good time,_

_That can be had with the help of a good rhyme._

_The DJ's hype, more than up to par._

_Uh-oh there goes a cutie at the bar,_

_So I stroll on over to her and say hi,_

_And tell her I'm the P-L-A-Y._

_And would you like to dance awhile?_

_I'll do anything to see your smile_

_See, my job is to take you higher._

_After a couple of songs I'll require._

_Having fun? Well I ain't done,_

_The best is yet to come._

_(Chorus)_

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, we just dancin' ya'll._

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, out there on the floor._

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, we just dancin' ain't we?_

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, gonna give you more_

_Oooh yeah, yeah..._

As the song's bridge kicked in, the duo got on their hind legs, and started doing a dance known to most New Yokers as the "buckstep." Keeping in rhythm with the music, both stallions stared doing a running motion with their hind legs. As they continued, they kicked out their hind legs, tapping each other's hoof in the process. Still in the running motion, they slid past each other and tapped their hooves again, this time from behind. As the song's bridge started winding down, the duo returned to their normal position to finish the song:

_(Colt and Play)_

_The music's hype and if it's alright with you,_

_I wouldn't mind spending the rest of the night with you._

_No kidding babe we could make some noise_

_You and your mares, and me and my colts,_

_Just feelin' like a night filled with pleasure,_

_We could take it slow with no pressure._

_Enough respect, you won't regret,_

_This will be a night you won't soon forget._

_(Yeah) And that's a promise from me to you._

_Take my hand mare, I'm gonna see you through_

_You don't strike me as a woman that fronts,_

_Here's your chance, you only live once._

_I wanna hear you say, "Oh, what a blast, Colt._

_We sure had good fun while it lasted."_

_Hang out with friends, hit the skins,_

_Next week we're gonna do it again!_

_(Chorus)_

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, we just dancin' ya'll._

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, out there on the floor._

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, we just dancin' ain't we?_

_Ain't gonna hurt nopony, gonna give you more_

_Oooh yeah, yeah...(x2)_

The crowd started cheering wildly as the song ended. The stallions felt the ground beneath them shake from all the ovation. Redhead tried to shout something to Swing, but it was lost in the noise. At this point, the emcee trotted back on stage.

"Colt 'N Play, fillies and gentelcolts!" the emcee shouted into his microphone.

The crowd was still cheering as the duo walked offstage. The blue stallion approached the two as they came by.

"Damn! you ponies killed it out there!" he said. "I thought the building was gonna collapse from all that applause!"

"He ain't exaggerating either," Janet agreed. "You guys got the biggest pop of the night."

"I wouldn't say it was the biggest, but it was pretty loud," the exhausted Swing gasped. "I only hope it was enough to impress the judges."

"Speaking of which," the black stallion interjected, "Why is it that only two out of the five total judges are actually musicians? If it's supposed to be a music contest, the panel should consist solely of musicians."

"Actually, there's three," Redhead said. "You saw that stallion with the super-short mane, and dark brown suit?"

"Yeah."

"That's L.A., the one holding this show."

"Wait, you mean as in L.A. _Babyface_?!" the blue stallion exclaimed "The _producer_?!"

"The one and only."

"Oh Celestia!" the blue stallion jumped up with joy, surprising the others. "I knew it was a big-shot producer holding the show, but I didn't think it was L.A. Babyface! Oh Celestia, I hope I win, I hope-"

"_Ahem._"

"Uh... I mean, I hope _we'll_ win?" The blue stallion said sheepishly.

Swing snickered.

Before anyone could say anything else, however, a loud, screeching sound came from the stage, causing pain for anyone that was in earshot. (i.e. EVERYBODY) after a few seconds, the noise eventually stopped

"Sorry 'bout that, folks!" the emcee said apologetically. "Seems my microphone went on the fritz for a moment, heh heh... But I know you ponies ain't got time for that! what you got time for is the winner of the talent show! Can our three finalists come out on stage please."

The group was perplexed. _Three?_ Swing thought. _There's only two acts back here. Where's the third supposed to be at?_

The two groups were met with thunderous applause as they made their way onstage. The collective was surprised at how much love they we're getting from the audience.

_I guess it's a good sign,_ Swing thought hopefully. _Usually Appello crowds don't get all this excited, but then again, this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing goin' on!_

"Alllllllllllllllllll rrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiight! Now our competitors are all here and..." The emcee trailed off when he realized he was four ponies short. "Where are the Cutie Mark Crusaders?"

_Oh, right._ Swing thought. _I forgot about them. But they seemed to disappear after Deja went onstage the first time..._

Suddenly, a burst of bright yellow light exploded from the center of the stage, enveloping the entire theater. The ponies covered their eyes, unable to withstand the light's intensity. But as quickly as it came, the light disappeared, revealing the source: The Cutie Mark Crusaders.

"Ta-dah!" they shouted in unison.

Silence. You could almost hear a pin drop.

Then a low clap could be heard.

Followed by another.

And another.

And another. Eventually, the entire theater broke out into full applause, amazed by what they saw.

"Wowie... I must say, that's a helluva way to make an entrance," The emcee said as the applause died down. "How in the world did you do that?"

"It's a secret," Sweetie Belle said innocently. "Though I'll admit, we did have a little bit of help..."

"Say no more, girls. Now without further ado, the winners of the talent show!" The emcee took an envelope from the judges, and began to open it with his magic.

"And tonight, the winner's of the talent show are...

_Alright, Swing; This is it. Tonight, you and Red are going home made men._ Swing could barely contain his excitement anymore. He was confident that the winners of the night were going to be-

"The Cutie Mark Crusaders!"

_Say what? Please let that be my ears deceiving me, oh Celestia_ please.

It wasn't unfortunately, as he watched the emcee give the prizes to the Cusaders, who cheered jubilantly. Swing felt like his soul had dropped into a black void, never to return.

Redhead, equally as crushed as his partner was, started walking offstage. Swing followed suit, not even bothering to congratulate the Crusaders.

_Damn... Of all the freakin' Chekhov Gun's the author could've used... He uses the freakin' CMC!_

* * *

_Hours pass..._

_Ding!_

...

_Ding!_

...

_Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!_

"Alright, alright, I'll get up already, sheesh... Just like my momma was... Always naggin me to get up."

A hung-over Swing rolled out of his bed, wanting to do anything but face the world today. After last night's crushing loss, he decided getting hammered would be the best option to forget about it, and thus began a ten-drink binge at Club P0n-3 with the strongest liquor he could afford (without ID, no less). Thankfully, Redhead was smart enough not to join in, and ended up flying Swing back home.

And now, as the young Zebran-Esquestian rapper made his way down the steps of his house, he silently cursed himself for both doing something so stupid, and living in a house with a ludicrous amount of steps than there should've been.

_Ding! Ding!_

"Jeez, don't get yo' tail in a twist, I'm almost there!" He shouted, thankful his uncle wasn't home at the time.

After what seemed like eternity, Swing finally managed to get to the door, and opened it.

in the doorway stood the two stallions he met at the show. Despite his throbbing headache, Swing suddenly remembered he didn't know their names at all, except for their friend.

"Hey... um, is this a bad time?" the black stallion asked.

"Naw brah, you just woke me up, is all," Swing yawned. "come on in."

"No, it's fine. We only came by to ask you a question, anyway."

"This early in the morning?"

The two stallions looked at each other confusedly. "It's half past three," the blue stallion said.

_Shit... I drank myself into a coma!_ "Errr... Anyhow, what's up?"

The blue stallion spoke first. "We want you to help us produce an album."

Swing stared at them blankly. "Say what again?"

"We're doing an album for Janet, and we need some help producing. You made that song you performed last night, right."

"Yeah. Me and Redhead always collaborate. But we don't do R&B, though. Funk sometimes, but not R&B. We're strictly Hip-Hop."

"We kind of figured that, but we was thinking that if we could combine your drum beats with the R&B melodies, we could try something new," the black pony said.

Swing scratched his head, not sure if the after affects of his binge was causing his uncomprehendability.

_Wait, is that even an actual word? Ahh, forget it._

"So you basically want to use me to help sequence your drums on the tracks?"

"Redhead too, if he's up for it." The blue stallion handed Swing a piece of paper with his number on it. "If you guys are interested, just call that number."

"I'll consider it," Swing said as he went back into his house. "Peace, love, and hair grease."

"Later," the stallions said in unison. As they started walking away, Swing ran back outside and called them back.

"Hey! I forgot to ask; what's your names?"

"I'm Keith," the black stallion answered.

"And I'm Bobby," said the blue one.

Swing smirked. "My name's Swingbeat, but I prefer 'Swing.' Nice to meet ya."


End file.
